Today, I've mostly been babysitting. Weeza had an appointment over lunchtime and in to the early afternoon, so I extricated myself from my lunch engagement and a couple of meetings. It all went fine, I picked up a couple of friends and took them to the lunch as promised, and gave them papers to be handed out - I'm secretary of this lunch club, which is very little work.
Zerlina wanted to go to sleep soon after Weeza left, so babysitting didn't involve any actual childcare. When I arrived home, the Sage said that Al and Dilly has to go to Norwich, so I've spent the evening here babysitting too, except while I was cooking dinner and the Sage took over.
He has had a day of looking after people too. John is now in the local cottage hospital, the Sage having organised it. That is, he would have had to wait longer or maybe gone to a different hospital, but the Sage helped. Then he went to see Andy, who is also in the same hospital. And then he went to visit the wife of a dear friend of his, who died a few days ago. So he has excelled even his usual lovely self in kindness today.
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Well done, both of you. There's a lot to be said for the willing horse!!!
I wrote this on the phone, when very tired, so it was short and dull I'm afraid. I'm just off to visit John and Andy myself now, which will be whole lot easier now I haven't got to go to either Gorleston or Norwich hospitals!
According to 2011 calendar, illustrated with heroic deeds, which the local fire brigade distributes every year (in exchange for €20) Jan. 20th is St Sebastian's day.
Now I'm trying to think of some deft link between this and your post, but have drawn a complete blank. Except maybe that if the Sage had been present at the martyrdom of St Sebastian, I'm sure he would have pulled the arrows out (and snapped them in half) as fast as the archers could shoot them.
Saint Edmund (King and Martyr) met his fate (very similar, I'm afraid to Saint Sebastian's) about ten miles from where Z and the Sage live (I think), which is geographically nearer, though still over a thousand years apart.
I think that St Edmund was killed at Thetford? If so, about 30 miles from here.
He would have persuaded them not to shoot, with charm and humour, ended on first name terms with everyone and all would have ended with friendly handshakes.
Tut Z, Tut. Strong local tradition has it that he was killed at Hoxne. Tied up an oak tree that finally fell in the 1840s. That he hid under Goldbrook Bridge in Hoxne,before being btrayed to the Danes, and refusing to give up Christianity, so they shot him full of arrows. Lots more local tradition connected, but I mustn't bung up your blog with it.
Really? I've been through Hoxne, but only because the main road was closed. I missed my train. The free-range eggs for the shop come from Hoxne.
I didn't live here in the 1840s, I'm sorry to say. We only have fishing history in Lowestoft.
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